


Suitable

by starforged



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Inquisition spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starforged/pseuds/starforged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't matter where Hawke goes, Fenris will show up. Inquisition spoilers post-Here Lies the Abyss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suitable

It’s probably the fifth group of bandits she’s had the most _unfortunate_ pleasure of running into. She was kind of hoping the snow and the mountains would have kept them from attacking one lone figure out here, but of course not. 

Hawke gives a wry twist of her lips as she swings her greatsword and cuts down the asshole foolish enough to charge at her. An arrow whistles through the air, bouncing harmlessly off her plate, and she has to bite back a sigh. Has to remind herself that even the idiots in Kirkwall insisted on attacking her even after they knew about the bloodshed she caused. 

It’s only when she hears the crunch of snow coming from behind her that she knows she made a mistake. They had been distracting her, clever bastards. 

The attack never comes. There’s a distinct gurgle of pain before a flash blurs by her, and she watches with some relief when the archer is cut down only a second later. 

She should be irritated, of course. With Varric, mostly. Of course he would have written Fenris, _of course_ her meddling friend would have given her exact location to the very unhappy elf stomping his way toward her with a menacing glower.

Hawke holds up a hand. “Here I thought elves were light on their feet.”

“That is all you have to say? A joke?”

She gives a slight smile. “Are you wearing boots?”

Fenris comes to a stop before her, towering a bit regardless of the fact that their height difference isn’t so great. His face is drawn in anger, lips pulled in a tight line, brow puckered, but it’s his eyes that make her feel the most guilty. Pain, worry, they’re all present in his green eyes. 

“You left me,” Fenris growls out. 

She rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. “Yes.”

“You didn’t tell me where you were going. Not even a note, Hawke. One morning, I wake, and you are just gone.”

Her head tilts back so she’s looking up at the gray sky instead of his accusing gaze. “If I had told you what I was doing, you would have followed--”

“Of course I would have followed you,” he snaps, interrupting her before running his hand through his white hair. “I would have gone with you to this Skyhold. And now you are going to Weisshaupt? Have I not proven that we are in this together now, Marian?”

It’s the use of her given name that really cuts through her, the slight tremble in his voice that has nothing to do with the wind slicing through them in this shitty country. 

She looks back down at him, stepping over a corpse as she moves in closer to him, taking his hand in hers. There are so many things she could say, but she remembers the Nightmare’s voice slithering through her mind, the fears it whispered to her. She has lost so much over the past decade, _so much_. She hadn’t been joking when talking to Trevelyan when she said that Fenris would have killed himself for her. Hawke would rather he didn’t have that opportunity. 

“You’re here now,” is what she finally says, swallowing down all of the fears climbing up her throat like bile. “And in good time! You’ve always had my back.”

He watches her carefully, and she can see how many things he has to say on the tip of his tongue. But she isn’t ready for what happened, not yet. Especially not out here in the bitter cold, when she’s exhausted and starving and pretty sure her toes have gone black.

He closes his eyes and makes a sound that sounds like a scoff and an angry sigh had sex together. He doesn’t let go of her hand, however, metal rubbing up against one another as he tugs her forward. His mouth finds her, cold and biting, but she welcomes it. 

“I passed a small outpost,” he tells her. “And then you will tell me everything _without_ Varric’s embellishments.”

“But Varric’s embellishments are so much more fun than my own.”

His mouth curls up in a smirk, and she feels a weight lift from her shoulders. She had left him to protect him, but she can’t say she isn’t happy to have him at her side again. “Yes, I know. I figure it is suitable punishment for you.”


End file.
